A Very Strange Obsession
by cmwriting
Summary: Written for the "Strange Obsession" Challenge!  When Ron keeps a pair of Hermione's socks, it is no surprise when he becomes obsessed.  WARNING: Strange!


**This story was written for the "Strange Obsession" Challenge. Please review! -cmwriting**

**Disclaimer: These characters are property of J..**

Ron sighed as he made his way up to his new bedroom at Bill and Fleur's new home, Shell Cottage. He lay on the bed and thought about Harry and Hermione. He had just left them in the middle of nowhere with only a tent and Hermione's bewitched purse. They had almost nothing, and now they didn't have him either. He knew he wouldn't be able to find them, at the rate they were moving – changing location almost everyday. Not that he was regretting it, of course. Harry should have known what he was doing before taking them out into the middle of nowhere to search for some unknown object.

Ron sighed, breathing in the salt air from the ocean. He put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of socks. They were white, with flowers on the top. The bottoms were worn and there was even a small hole at the heel. They had been Hermione's socks. Not that he wasn't still mad at Hermione, of course. _She_ had chosen Harry over him. She stayed with Harry, even though she _knew_ that Harry was clueless about Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Yeah, Ron wasn't afraid of the name. He could say it easily now, just like the others could. To be perfectly honest, leaving Harry and Hermione scared him more than saying the name.

Ron looked at the socks. He held them in his palm. He turned them inside out and then right again. They smelled like the forest. He made a promise to himself never to let go of these socks, to keep them forever.

Dinner with Bill and Fleur was awkward. Ron gulped down his shepherd's pie and rushed through the awful salad. Ron could tell Bill knew something was up when he refused dessert, Bill raising his eyebrows when his wife's back was turned. Ron gave a small shake of his head and confined himself to his room, closing the door gently and moving the rusty lock in place.

He took out the socks. He also took out a picture of the three of them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, from their first year at Hogwarts. They were sitting at the Gryffindor table, all rejoicing (except maybe Hermione) about the end-of-term exams being canceled. Hagrid had been the one to take it, he had given them each a copy as they boarded the train home.

It was that moment that he realized how much he regretted leaving them, and how it was impossible for him to return to them. He put the socks inside his pillowcase and put the photo in his back pocket. Ron lay on his bed, his head fighting his heart, and fell asleep, still dressed, on the bed.

The next morning Ron woke to the crashing of the waves and the salty breeze coming from the window by his bed. He glanced at the clock on the table next to his bed. It read 5:26am. Ron sighed as he reached inside his pillowcase and felt the softness of the socks. They felt so comforting when he held them. He got up, not bothering to get dressed, walked downstairs. He left a note on the kitchen table, telling Bill that he went for a walk and he'd be back by breakfast. Ron slipped on his sneakers and slowly and quietly opened and closed the door. Once he got outside, Ron took a deep breath. He was happy to be outside again.

On his walk along the beach, Ron thought about Hermione. And Harry too, he supposed. By the time Ron returned to Shell Cottage, he knew his decision. He would leave after lunch today, visit the place where he last saw his friends, and look for clues. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Just like dinner, breakfast was awkward. It was spent mostly in silence after Ron explained his plan to them (which, after making him promise that he would come back if he couldn't find his friends, they approved of) After about ten minutes of silence, Fleur mentioned something about washing the sheets and hurried up the stairs. Ron went upstairs and found his bed stripped of its covers.

Ron didn't think about the socks until during lunch, which was a little less awkward than breakfast because they all weren't half asleep and had the sense to talk a little. After a bit of small talk that was dull enough to bore Ron to death, something Fleur said made him look up.

"Bill, while I was doing the sheets, I found a pair of socks with flowers on them. But they're not mine, do you know where they could have come from?"

"Oh, uh, they're mine", said Ron quietly, trying not to let his face redden.

Now he _knew_ he had to get back to his friends.


End file.
